


Discovery

by JaneDavitt



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Dildos, M/M, Masturbation, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-24
Updated: 2010-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/pseuds/JaneDavitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel finds out more than Jack wanted him to, but Jack's only got himself to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovery

He hadn't known Daniel could blush that dark, that hot. Hadn't ever expected to reduce the man of words to a few stammered incoherencies.

Hadn't missed the way Daniel had kept a desk between them.

Didn't know if it was to keep him at bay, or give Daniel something to hide behind.

At home he stood in the bedroom door, frowning. Bed, flanked by night stands. He lay down in a graceless sprawl, still frowning.

_It's in the left hand side, top drawer, Daniel. I wouldn't ask, but I don't have time to get it before the flight. Can you -- yes. Left._

Daniel wasn't the prying sort. He'd counted on that, quelled his momentary panic when he remembered what he kept in the other night stand, because it was safe, all of it. Daniel wouldn't look.

But he had. He'd seen. And now he was trusting that Daniel was discreet.

Damn it. He'd _trusted_ him.

The sour scald of embarrassment was for what Daniel had seen; the anger for the betrayal.

Seen… had he done more than that? Jack rolled over and reached out, yanking open the drawer.

Froze.

Not because everything in there was subtly disarranged and one thing in particular still held the tang of soap, which it really shouldn't after a week away, and it'd been a few weeks before that that he'd last used it, anyway.

No. That was something to think about, something to --

No. What had Jack groaning, heartfelt and long, was the click of realisation.

Left wasn't a constant. It depended on which way you were facing.

Or lying.

The phone by the bed --on the _other_ side, the business, public, professional side of the bed -- rang, sharp and insistent.

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

Jack reached out, fingers scrabbling, found what Daniel had used on himself and held it up, staring, imagining Daniel's face as it slid home in a series of hesitant, then forceful shoves, sinking deep into artificially slicked heat; the sounds, or better yet, the quietness, broken by gasps, more felt than heard; the wild kick of his feet as he came against a bed he'd made again too tidily, too neatly.

"Daniel? Come here. Come now."

He hung up without waiting for a reply, his attention on what he held.

Closed his hand around the thickness, measuring, comparing, then tossed it back where it belonged.

Closed his eyes and waited.


End file.
